Bored! Bored! Bored!
by Darkfangz13
Summary: One Bored Sherlock, one overworked John, and a LONG list of annoyed persons in between. Title says it all.


Bored! Bored! Bored!

Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective in the world, solely for the reason that 'he created the occupation', would do anything to keep from being bored. Even if it meant undertaking boring and sometimes menial tasks that Sherlock found so terribly pedestrian.

DI Lestrade of the New Scotland Yard knew this, if Sherlock hovering over his shoulder for an open-and-shut domestic case was any indication. Lestrade merely reprimanded the detective and threw him out of his office with all the kindness and respect he could scrape off his weary patience. He took a moment and sent a silent prayer upward for Sherlock's next unsuspecting victims.

DS Sally Donovan and ME Anderson were well versed in the symptoms of a bored detective and quickly realized the detective's predicament when they found that Sherlock wasn't avoiding them like the plague and actually welcomed the idea of a verbal World War III. They confronted him about it haughtily and were quickly sent packing with their tails between their legs.

Molly, though, welcomed his presence, bored or no, rude or no, Sherlock was Sherlock and she was grateful for every moment spent with him. Sherlock showed himself out when he sensed the woman gathering up courage for a second try at propositioning him for a cup of coffee.

Hell, even Mrs. Hudson felt Sherlock's bad mood that day and was ready for him with a plate of biscuits and a good cuppa. Sherlock just thanked her kindly and excused himself to surrender his attention to a not-yet-existant experiment he was undertaking. That should keep the flat clear of any visitors for at least an hour or more.

He collapsed bonelessly into his usual seat with a frustrated sigh and curled his legs under himself as he fished for his phone. _Didn't people know, by now, that he'd die without anything interesting going on!_ He pulled up his list of approximately three contact numbers (Lestrade, John, and Mycroft. Sherlock had tried to rid his phone of the latter's number once, it reappeared five minutes later.) and proceeded to punch in a single line of text that he sent to all three of them. _I'm bored._

Five minutes later, he recieved feedback from Mycroft, reprimanding him for using his precious contact number for such childishness.

No reply from Lestrade and John. Sherlock frowned. Badgering Mycroft would have to do, for now.

He typed another line of text. _Don't be such a prude, Mycroft. Arn't you supposed to be in a top secret meeting, or something?_ Sherlock smiled smugly. _Don't tell me you're texting under the table?_

_I take it Dr. Watson isn't in? _Sherlock smiled outright. He could already imagine Mycroft's smile slipping at the head of some long, darkened, ominous table as they debated a suitable plan of action to begin world domination. The thought made him laugh.

It took Sherlock a moment to remember to reply. _Not your concern._

_A row, then? _Oh Mycroft, Sherlock smiled humorlessly. Always the worrywort.

_I suppose, a chip and PIN machine, perhaps. _Sherlock texted back.

It took Mycroft all of five seconds to realize what Sherlock was talking about. And when he did, he didn't even bother to text back. Sherlock smiled victoriously.

Just then, John Watson, ex-military doctor, Sherlock's flatmate, and the sociopath's next unsuspecting victim, walked into the flat with a frown. "Another row, then?" Sherlock taunted, mimicking his brother's eariler text, though, knowing the man was at the clinic the whole morning. "With the chip and PIN, I mean. What's the tally now?"

John let out a stress-laden sigh and rolled his eyes. Sherlock found this slightly intreguing, the man seemed to exhale more frustration than carbon-dioxide. "Sod off, Sherlock. Just shut it, please."

But Sherlock knew that course of action was well out of bounds. He smiled slowly, some unfathomable plan stringing itself together in his mind. He could already feel the cogs of his brain whirring to life. But his plans were interrupted by a text from Mycroft. _Finished meeting, need to speak to you immediately. You would do well to take advantage of the car I am sending you._

Sherlock dropped his phone into his coat pocket as he wrapped it around himself. If Mycroft had been speaking his text, Sherlock would've felt the urge to interrupt the order with a sarcastic 'I know the drill, Mycroft.' He was always so monotonous, if not, predictable.

"There's a case." he voiced nonchalantly to his flatmate. "You coming?"

John looked longingly from his just perfected cuppa to Sherlock and sighed. "I'm going to end up coming anyway, arn't I?"

Sherlock smiled gleefully. "Of course." And he was rushing out of their flat with a flamboyant _swish _of his coat.

He found his feet on the Baker Street pavement in record time, and breathed in the slightly moist air with a contented sigh. Yes, life had become much less boring since John Watson arrived in it.

John trundled awkwardly out of the flat after Sherlock and smiled at the look of childish euphroria on the man's face. He just watched as the man near skipped out into the street to meet the car Mycroft sent them and decided not to complain about all the text messages he had recieved at work, urging him to come home.

* * *

><p>Extra, courtesy of John Watson's recieved messages:<p>

From: Sherlock to John, **Bored.**

From: Sherlock to John, **John, are you there?**

From: Sherlock to John, **Fine. Ignore me!**

From: DI Lestrade to John, **Sorry, Sherlock's being a git. Any chance you could get off work early today?**

From: DI Lestrade to John, **Texted you an hour ago, but I'm really getting desperate here. Might want to get over here as soon as you can, at the rate Sherlock is, there **_**will**_** be a need for medical assistance here.**

From: Sherlock to John, **Bloody boring case.**

From: Sherlock to John, **Lestrade's being a bastard and threw me out of the office. I wonder if Anderson's working on something really, really important. I hope he is, that way I can ruin it for him.**

From: John to Sherlock, **Sherlock, don't you dare! You're causing enough trouble already, arn't you?**

From: Sherlock to John, **Oh, so NOW you answer!**

From: John to Sherlock, **It's lunch break, Sherlock, I just caught a few spare minutes.**

From: Sherlock to John, **Well, get back! I need my assistant! Mrs. Husdon took my skull again!**

From: Sherlock to John, **... Oh, great, the silent treatment again?**

From: Sherlock to John, **I'm bored.**

From: Mycroft to John, **Forgive me if I'm interrupting your work, but Sherlock seems more agitated than usual.**

From: John to Mycroft, **What! Nevermind, how did you get my number!**

From: John to Mycroft, **... Forget I asked that.**

From: Mycroft to John, **Wise descision.**

From: Unknown number to John, **Sorry, Mr. Holmes is in a meeting right now. Are you the one texting him? Or is it his brother? Anyway, if you need something from Mr. Holmes right now, you could leave a message with me. I'll make sure he gets it. thx!**

From: Sherlock to John, **John! I know you're finished work by now!**

From: Sherlock to John, **I must inform you that I will not be ignored!**

From: John to Sherlock, **Just hold on! Just got out of the building! I need to get sorted through the massive list of texts I've missed! What's going on over there!**

From: Sherlock to John, **Exactly! Nothing! I'm Bored!**

From: John to Sherlock, **Jesus, even from Anthea!**

From: Sherlock to John, **What? Who's Anthea?**

From: John to Sherlock, **Nothing. I'm back, by the way.**

From: Sherlock to John, **Bloody well took your time!**

From: John to Sherlock, **Sherlock, you could just **_**talk **_**to me since I'm **_**right here!**_

From: Sherlock to John, **We're in Mycroft's car, everything we say will probably be recorded... and where's the fun in that?**

From: Sherlock to John, **... :D**

**The End.**


End file.
